One bearing the Mark
by explodreamer
Summary: Cath Alderdice, a bastard child, receives the Mark of an Outsider on the night of his mother's death. Using his powers, he lived peacefully in the Drapers Ward as a mute tailor until one day, he was marked as the prime suspect in a series of murders. The Void will soon devour all lights in the sky and Cath must keep the last light lit to save himself. OC.
1. Chapter 1

Father slapped Mother so hard that she fell onto the shrine. The plate holding her rune fell onto the carpeted floor where a pile of bone charms laid.

Mother looked back angrily. "You hit me!" she shouted. "You hit me because of that woman!"

"That woman is my wife! I can't believe you did... This!" Father spat, gesturing at the shrine in its hidden room and shaking his head.

Mother whipped around and pointed angrily at Father. "You promised me that you will bring us home. You told me that we can live together. That that bitch didn't matter. I waited. Waited for years. I beared your child I raised him up alone!"

Mother wasn't crying like how she used to cry in front of the shrine quietly. She was hysterical. She picked up the pair of the scissors from the shrine. It was used to pray for good business for her tailoring job. She stomped to Father with it.

"You want to end this? I'll end this for you. I'll kill you, I'll kill our son then I'll join you both in hell!"

Mother swiped the scissors at Father and he grabbed her hand just in time before she got what she wanted. They fought against each other; Father pushed Mother back and Mother struggled to put the blade of the scissors to his throat. The candle lights shook as they danced around the room in the struggle. The shadows on the wall depicted two pathetic souls scratching the walls as if trying to climb out the depths of hell.

Then suddenly, one of the shadows fell, disappearing from the stage. Mother crawled on the floor towards Father. The man looked at her horrified, blood streaming down his arm from the scissors he held in his hand. Mother grabbed her throat, choked and gasped. She crawled another step, looking up at Father.

"Help me," she gasped. "... Son."

Mother turned her head around to face me, almost too much of an angle, like an owl turning its head upside down. She just looked at me, her mouth open, her bloody hand still over her slit throat. Mother gurgled and groaned unhumanly, blood spilling out of her throat as Father and Son watched her life flow into nothing. She begged for help but the words couldn't find its way out of her mouth. Tears flowed down the corner of her bloodshot eyes. Her mouth opened and closed continuously. She grabbed me by my ankle. I looked down and watched her bloody hand clawing into my skin desperately. Her bracelet, made of whale bone, was drenched in blood as well.

"... What have I done..." Father whispered, shocked at the turn of events. "I didn't mean to kill her! I-I just wanted to stop her," he rambled fearfully and looked at me for my acknowledgement. Father ran to me and held my arms, squeezing it tightly. "You saw it! It was an accident! An accident!"

"How much longer before she finally dies?"

A new voice. An unfamiliar voice.

I blinked and saw it. Floating platforms. Numerous corridors and stairs. Some leading to somewhere, some leading to nowhere. The end and the beginning. The afterlife realm. Somehow, it's easy to understand. It's easy to know where I am.

I stood up. Father was gone. I looked down at my ankle. Mother wasn't grabbing it anymore. She just laid in front of me, face down. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't crying. She wasn't struggling. I stepped back away from her slack grasping hand which fell onto the ground with a soft thump. It was so quiet.

"Your mother is dying."

I turned around and a young man stood behind me. His black eyes stared down at me. He wore a brown coat and blue pants, his clothes cleaner than anyone that I've seen. Even cleaner than Father's suit. His black boots were bright and untainted.

"Cath Alderdice," he said. "Your father betrayed his wife and his mistress. Your mother dies by his hands. Soon, your blood will be on your father's hands too." The young man bent down to look at me even closer. "And yet, you looked on, void of fear. What are you trying to hold back?"

My left hand trembled vigorously. It shook so hard that I tried to hold it still with my other hand. Then I felt a burst of energy and heat, and watched as the Mark etched over the back of my hand gradually but painfully. I gritted my teeth to try to bear it and felt blood rushing to my face as I grunted from the now blinding pain.

"A smile. So that's what you were holding back," the young man said, his voice almost a whisper in my head. "What would you do now, Cath Alderdice?"

I blinked and the familiar shrine room materialized in front of me gradually. As if a fog has set into the room, I could only see mother, laying on the floor in front of the shrine, dead. Father was nowhere around. I brought up my hands to look for the Mark but the hands were too bloody. I rubbed them against my shirt but found myself wearing a suit. Father's suit. My hands were rough. It was the hands of a businessman. A businessman who had been facing problems with his business, who had to work just as hard as the few remaining employees that he could afford to keep but refused to give up. A businessman who had to juggle two lives and families, but finally couldn't keep up to it.

A cool breeze came through the open window by the shrine. I walked towards it, tripping over mother's hand clumsily. I recovered my posture and climbed through the window into the balcony, feeling every heavy step that I'm taking. This must be how I would feel if I grew up to be a man. I climbed over the balcony and sat on the railing. It was thin and couldn't support me unless I held onto the railing to balanced myself.

Father wouldn't care for me. He can't, if he wants to keep his other family with him. He has to remove me from his life. It's easy to understand. All I need to do is move faster than Father. If I were to survive alone, I'd need food, clothes and money. I looked at the affluent residence across the street. The neighbour was a fellow businessman, frequently attending parties together with Father. He hasn't returned yet. He should have enough for a child to live well enough. I should go there.

There was a loud heavy thump from beneath the street. I turned around and checked for the source of the noise. Father lied down on the street in the darkness, crying and moaning with confusion and pain. The street lamp flickered as the pathetic man dragged his body into the light and shouted for help feebly. I looked up across to see the shrine glowing in my home. In a blink of an eye, I've made it across the street somehow. I lit up a table lamp and started searching the room. I took the biggest bag that I could find in the wardrobe and threw in jewellery, cash, clothes and elixirs laying in plain sight. I found their daughter's room and took a couple of her dresses. They should have locked them in somewhere safe if they were important.

"Harding! Harding! Can you hear me? I'm here, down here in the streets! Help me! Help me!"

Father was shouting from beneath the streets. He must have thought that someone was home. I checked the room once more amidst Father's cries. Soon, a patrolling lower guard would rescue him, once offered the money.

"Please! Help me! Please–"

Father saw me when I walk to the balcony. His jaw dropped in surprise, his eyes widened with apparent fear and realization. I climbed onto the railing, looking further across to the roof above my apartment. Father's sharp shrill rang through the street as I took stepped out, as if walking. With a blink, I stumbled a little on the roof, not expecting the slanted angle. I stood by the edge of the roof and look into the distance.

The Drapers Ward would be a good place to start anew.


	2. Chapter 2

Things changed for the better quickly within a year after Lady Emily returned to the Dunwall Tower, along with the wrongly accused Lord Protector. The two best natural philosophists combined their research efforts and created an improved and efficient elixir. Young Queen Emily enabled the distribution of the elixirs to all citizens of the city through funding and manufacturing on the Kingsparrow Island.

Years passed and the Lord Protector continued to be a legend and a hero of the city. Deep in the night in the pubs, when the men are thoroughly drunk and unreasonably brave, they whisper about Corvo Attano's skills and deeds. Some didn't believe that the Lord Protector was truly merciful. "He must have killed someone in revenge. They killed his love after all," they would accuse and shout loudly. "I bet he'd jump straight for anyone that he doesn't like." They talked about how stealthy he was, how he could have taken down the whole city's overseers if he hadn't been merciful, how he was graced with the mysterious force that Dunwall is wary of. The drunk men sung praise of the great Lord Protector and whispered fears of his unknown abilities as they staggered through the streets. The streets were safer now, where the weepers have passed on and the sick had hopes bottled for them, easy to procure. The rats retreated back into sewers, their numbers reducing gradually as public health was presented along with felony punishment.

"Cath! You look like a creep watching us like that!" Adam, a fellow tailor, hiccuped and continued in the usual drunk slur from the street beneath, "Come on down and drink with us!"

"What are you talking about? Your wife's gonna beat your ass when you're home drunk like this!" the other fellow tailors howled with laughter. They were fellow tailors living along the street of the Drapers Ward, on their usual route home from the pubs after a good day's work. I smiled and shook my head lightly. I gestured a 'you guys go ahead' to them and watched from my opened window of my apartment.

I looked upon the men as they slowly returned to their apartments one by one, until the last man stood right outside his apartment, still drinking from the bottle of wine that he probably brought out from the pub. The street lamp flickered, one of the last few ones that still burned on oil instead of being powered by whale oil. I considered the Mark on the back of my hands then flicked my finger at the street lamp, conjuring a whoosh of wind so strong and sudden that the glass cracked and the light extinguished. The man gave a shout of surprise and quickly stumbled into the apartment while calling out for his wife. Even if the street is safer now, the citizens are still afraid of the dark, afraid of what lies in the shadows. I giggled to myself, mentally. It may have been a little mean, but the man still got home safely.

It didn't take long for me to fall asleep soundly and soon I was in the Void. Bits and pieces of streets and buildings floated in the Void with multiple stairways branched out from where I started and a whale floating by in the distance. I took the leftmost stairway, seemingly leading to the familiar silhouette of a floating whale in the far distance. The same young man who visited my dreams now and then stood in the middle of the stairway.

"Petty tricks," the Outsider said. "Showing disdain and disrespect to the powers you possess. You are the only other man to have not taken any lives with these powers, Cath Alderdice."

I cleared my throat, trying to think of a witty reply but before I could say anything, the Outsider continued.

"Still not saying anything? The contract has been honoured for a long time, but soon it won't be binding you any more."

"... What do you mean?" I asked warily, cringing at the unfamiliar voice that creeped out of my throat. It has been many years since I spoke to someone and the only times I spoke was with the Outsider. The Outsider leaned forward to look down at me with his deep black eyes. "The end has begun, Cath Alderdice. Then even your petty tricks hold no meaning or influence. How will you save yourself?"

I woke up to the loud banging on my door. I put on my coat casually and walked to the window to check on the busy streets. It was already mid morning and the streets bustled with street vendors and customers.

"Open up! By the order of the High Overseer!"

There was a crowd beneath my apartment building, where onlookers gathered to see what business the Overseers had with the resident mute tailor. The apartment door crashed in an elaborate manner from the unnecessary use of force and about ten Overseers rushed into the room, armed with pistols and daggers.

"Search the place!" the leader commanded and the Overseers swarmed all over the room, flipping tables, overturning fabrics, carelessly throwing my work tools and opening my drawers. The leader pointed his pistol at me, staring at my every move as if he could lock me down with an antagonizing stare. I threw my hands instinctively to show submission. His gaze followed wherever I looked at, as if trying to catch me in some kind of act. One Overseer walked toward the wardrobe behind me, his hand reached out to open the wardrobe doors and froze there in motion. So did everyone else.

I rushed to the wardrobe ahead of the frozen Overseer. The Mark on my hand glowed as power surged through, stopping time momentarily. It wouldn't last long, not before I've taken the elixirs. I grabbed the old suitcase; my makeshift shrine from the wardrobe and quickly checked the runes and bone charms in it. The Outsider had gifted them every year since I've been branded with the Mark. I counted them as I packed them. Eleven runes. The Outsider had slipped in another anniversary gift from the Void last night. I pulled open a floorboard right under the bed and hastily stuffed the suitcase into it, my heart thumping rapidly as time fought its way back into the present. I hurried to my original position by the apartment door and with a sharp whoosh in my ears, time resumed and the Overseer swung open the wardrobe door.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Sir," the Overseers reported one by one.

"Where were you last night?" the leader asked.

I looked around the room and shrugged. Can't really say much when I can't speak, can I?

"I asked you a question! Answer me! Where were you last night?" he asked again loudly.

A few people shouted from the crowd at the street, "He's mute! He can't speak!"

The leader glared at me and I shrugged. The crowd jeered at the Overseers. "Are you even supposed to be here? Someone call the City Watch!" another person shouted from the streets. It's great that the Overseers were still as unpopular as before. A couple of the fellow tailors peeked their head into the room. "You got the wrong man. He was at home the whole night. We saw him last night," Adam said slowly and softly, as if he were talking to an alarmed dog. Without warning, the leader swung around and opened fire. Adam collapsed onto the floor and grabbed his leg, moaning in pain. I made as much of a noise that I could, though what I wanted to do is scream at the reckless Overseer and put my fist into his smug face.

"We have definitive evidence that he was somewhere else last night, and if you prove his alibi, you could only be an accomplice in this case," the leader said coldly. He turned his head to look at me, his pistol still aiming at the man. He cocked his head at two of the Overseers and they marched forward, grabbing my arms behind. I shook my head vigorously in denial. I looked over at my writing desk then back at him. I can write, I thought as hard as I can. I can write as much as you want, even a novel if given the time. Just let me explain for myself!

"I want hear it from you personally... How did you do it? With black magic?"

Arrggh! Stop being so stubborn! I wriggled in my place but it only made the Overseers tighten their grip.

"I know you can speak. I've investigated on your... background. Maybe you'll need some persuasion?" the leader smiled sinisterly. "I would shoot the hand, it would serve as good warning for people of your line. But the head is a bigger target and you'd go without any pain." He cocked his pistol smoothly and looked at the injured man, aiming at his target.

The bullet was barely out of the barrel when he fired. I wrestled out of the Overseers and quickly side stepped out of the apartment avoiding the frozen bullet in motion, then pulled both tailors into the corridor. Time returned right at the moment we nudged slightly to the left, the bullet hitting into the floor, less than an inch from the tailor's hand. The tailors turned around in surprise, gaping at my appearance with them. Ohhh, I know what they are thinking. What everyone will think.

"Impossible..."

I bolted down the stairs, out of the building and into the streets. I tried to ease my way through the crowd hurriedly but everyone wanted to ask me what's going on. I shook my hand repeatedly, to tell them that I've got to go really urgently.

"Black magic! Get him!" The overseers shouted almost in unison.

The crowd immediately dispersed, repelling from me as much as possible. Well, that made things easier. I ran down the streets and turned into the corner towards the Riverfront. Along the docks, I pushed my way through the morning crowd where driverless rail cars roll through with foreign visitors and exotic cargoes. I slipped into the busier side of the docks, hidden from sight behind the rail cars.

"Where is he? Find him!"

It was a relief that they were losing my tracks. A lady dressed in exquisite dress looked at me curiously as I made a quick turn and hid by her. "Er hem...Good day, milady. Just playing a game of hide and seek with my buddies," I said and gave the brightest smile I could. The good news is that I can finally start explaining myself. The bad news is the fact that I can actually start explaining for myself verbally. I followed the rail car heading upslope back into the streets of Drapers Ward, and quickly slipped away from the rail car once I made sure they weren't following me.

I walked briskly into a back alley and headed towards my apartment building. I hid in the rubbish chute at the side of the building and started mentally measuring the distance between the chute and my apartment balcony. It's only the second level so I shouldn't miss my jump. Then I hesitated, breathing heavier than when I was on the run. What if I did blinked too early or too late? How bad would the fall be? I kept thinking of the night where Father had fell from the balcony. Would it hurt just as much as the pain he had shown that night? I'm still young so I should still be able to stand even after a bad fall, right? Alright, if I concentrate, everything should work out fine. I can stop time then I should be able to…

The rubbish chute cover opened suddenly and I fell back in shock with a gasp. A tall man stood over the chute, dressed in a black coat and wearing a hideous skull-like mask. He reached in and grabbed me by my collar, lifting me easily and then threw me onto the ground just as easily. I scrambled up to run away from the man blindly and felt a strong arm wrap around my neck in a chokehold. I tried to stop time – no, I was sure I stopped time. But the chokehold continued becoming tighter and tighter. I kicked and gagged as I slowly blacked out until I was almost certain that I was killed.

The Void expanded in front of me but unlike the usual branches of staircases, there was only one corridor to follow through. I took a deep breath, wondering if I was still breathing in real life or my existence in the Void was just a metaphor. The familiar ringing of a rune or bone charm sounded through the Corridor and into the Void. I walked into the corridor to see what was waiting at the end of it.


	3. Chapter 3

I walked down the corridor depicting my life, the familiar hum of the Void singing in my ears. It felt weird, looking at the frozen moments of my life. I looked at the fragment of my birth day frozen, just the way Mother had described. She laid in the bed crying, her palms covering her hands. It was happiness that she experienced; there was also fear and sadness. She was all alone without any family. The man she loved she could not ask for help, for she is just a woman without a status. The midwife comforted the crying baby in her arm while she patted Mother on the shoulder and persuaded her to not give up the baby.

Mother and I lived quietly along the Tailor's district. Father bought an apartment for us so that we'd have a roof over our heads. It was only during these days when Father was so happy, for he had a son, an heir that he thought eventually he will find a way to give status to. He couldn't send money to Mother blatantly and so sent aristocrat acquaintances to have their coats made by Mother. Father gave Mother many assurances, that he will find a way to marry Mother as soon as he could afford to.

I grew up normally to adolescence albeit a little on the smaller side, learning tailoring from Mother while she grew old and weary of the empty promises that Father gifted her through the years. I tried to convince Mother to look away from Father, tried to show her how we could do just as well without clinging onto Father's promises. "You're just like your father," Mother would say, caressing my cheek as she spoke. "Ambitious and smart."

Father was indeed very ambitious and married a rich aristocrat's daughter, leaping through the social ranks and into luxury. Mother started to pray more to her newly built shrine and stopped taking in orders from the usual clients. I watched regretfully as the clients went away gradually and felt vexed that I couldn't take on the orders even if I wanted to. If only I had more time every day, I would have kept these clients. With the birth of the second child, a boy, Father visited only occasionally. Mother prayed harder for the man she loves to return to her.

Father returned home one night. What Mother thought to be a response to her prayers turned out to be Father's eventual betrayal that she had feared. Father wanted to end it. Now that he had a daughter and son, and a sharp and alert wife, he could no longer keep up with two families. Father wanted Mother to let go. Mother wouldn't. The night I escaped from Father, I decided to drop the family name. Why would I need one when I didn't have a family? Two weeks into the escape, I was almost penniless. What I had looted from the Harding residence hurriedly wasn't sufficient. Word on the streets had mysterious men searching for a boy, small, weak and lost. Then, I knew that the dress came into use. I looked at the frozen memory with just as much embarrassment as the boy who wore the dress and blushed in shame at his reflection in the mirror. I bought as many bottles of Pierro's spiritual remedy and went to the richest aristocrat I knew.

I remembered the day as clear as the frozen memory in the back, it might have been one of the most thrilling and proudest moment in my life. I went up to the aristocrat, slipping through his guards and spoke to him. "Will you make a coat?" I had asked. My voice still sounded young and innocent like a young girl then. I was slender and small, like a girl too. "My brother can make you a coat that you want in less than a day," I had tried on my sweetest voice that I could muster and looked in the aristocrat's eyes deeply. "Please, will you make a coat?"

I got the deal. The aristocrat laughed when I requested for a written contract. It was a lazily written contract that an unwary man would write. 50 coins for a new coat delivered within the same day. I settled down among the tools that the aristocrat provided and started to work. I worked fast, not as fast as Mother was, but I was confident that I was just as good. I had Time is on my side and in my control, after all. The aristocrat was surprised when the same evening, that same young girl visited him with a coat in her hands. He checked and made sure that it was not stolen or bought. An inside pocket with a unique design that he had never seen before proved that he was looking at an original piece of work. The aristocrat's brightly lit eyes told me that I had found a sponsor. I kept to myself and only worked for the aristocrat. The smart businessman took credit for the new coats and sold them for a high price, and gave his mysterious tailor a small cut of the profit. It was enough to buy better equipment, to buy a place to have my own business. By the time Young Queen Emily succeeded the throne, my coats were a new favourite in the higher society. It was a fresh start for Dunwall City and the new coat was something to complement it.

My face hardened when I reached the next frozen memory. I shook my head and slapped my own cheeks lightly. It's in the past. There's no need to get worked up over it. It was the night when I had come home to find my home - my place - broken in and searched. I knew that I had to do something to put Father in place, to keep me alone, to leave me alone. The fragment of memory in the Void showed me standing in front of Father, seated in a big and heavy wheelchair. I handed the letter to Father and offered a deal. From then on, I wouldn't speak of the night of the accident. There was no catch. It was simply a deal at my disadvantage. If it assures him, he can think of it as a curse of the Outsider. It will ensure the contract holds true until the day Father destroys the letter.

I walked lethargically through an empty corridor after the last fragment of memory. Nostalgia is a very tiring journey and I wished that I could leave, or at least move on, if I was indeed already dead. I reached the edge of the corridor and looked up. There was a gap in the Void, about 30 feet wide across to the other side, where a lone room floated. A slender woman, wearing a coat that I had made, stood at the other side. She was a fragment too but not of my memory. She spoke to a man, taller than her, with a well-trained physique. His mature and tired face was drawn in a frown.

I blinked without hesitation, for the Void was safe from any mistakes, and stood next to the woman. She had almond eyes, large and watery, seemingly twinkling in the Void. She seemed to speak with concern to the taller man, handing over to him a note. I took the note and read it. It was scrawled on hastily with a significant amount of pressure, as if the writer had written it in fear and panic.

THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT.


End file.
